


Remedial

by bluebells



Series: Ceasefire [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Frottage, Goodbye Summer Games 2k17, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Remedial Massage, Secret Relationships, Slight painplay because of remedial, slight d/s themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:57:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: Lúcio doesn't even want to know what he sounds like right now. Can't spare a thought for his volume, for the pained grunt that ekes into a low, long whimper as his body goes taut, arching away from the man at the foot of the bed."Nngh—slow down," Lúcio pants, vision smearing white with pain for a heady moment that rises, holds andholdsand he shudders, digs his shoulders into the mattress, trying to pull himself free.The touch on him only intensifies, earning a half-muffled shriek of indignation, and Lúcio’s head shoots up from the pillow.Akande is impassive in the heat of the medic's glare. "Breathe," he says.





	Remedial

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, warm up is over.

Lúcio doesn't even want to know what he sounds like right now. Can't spare a thought for his volume, for the pained grunt that ekes into a low, long whimper as his body goes taut, arching away from the man at the foot of the bed.

" _Nngh_ —slow down," Lúcio pants, vision smearing white with pain for a heady moment that rises, holds and _holds_ and he shudders, digs his shoulders into the mattress, trying to pull himself free.

The touch on him only intensifies, earning a half-muffled shriek of indignation, and Lúcio’s head shoots up from the pillow.

Akande is impassive in the heat of the medic's glare. "Breathe," he says.

Akande is relaxed on his perch at the bed's edge, one foot on the floor to brace himself. His dark eyes study Lúcio’s face, raking the length of his body as he’s held fast by his ankle. Akande drives his thumb down the inner arch of Lúcio’s foot, massaging tightened cords of muscle that have braced him on the football field all week, through bicycle kicks and gravity defying manoeuvres to lead his team to victory. Unfortunately, Lúcio is not as vigilant about his own wellbeing as saving goals. Now prone on his back in his seleção gear, he writhes at Akande's mercy as the other man kneads and unknots a week's worth of tension and physical strain from his body. From the ball of his foot through the hypersensitive arch to his heel, sparking pained groans and whines, Lúcio tries and fails not to squirm through the tortuously slow treatment.

It's worth it, for the moment the pain peaks and crests into a relief so keen it mutes Lúcio's other senses, makes him dumb and slack for when Akande drags him forward with hands hooked under his knees. Lúcio breathes hard, face hot as his world tips, and he finds himself astride the martial artist's clothed hips, Akande’s large hands pushing up beneath the loose sleeves of his shorts.

Now this is familiar. This, he likes.

Akande leans in and for a moment Lúcio thinks he’ll actually get the kiss he’s been starved for since he stepped into this room; instead Akande rests his forehead against the younger man’s, breathes in the heat of Lúcio’s frustrated groan in the warmth of shared air between them. How much would he pay if he bites Akande right now?

The powerful grip kneading up the tension of his thighs diverts his irritation. Akande's thumbs find an especially hard cord of muscle in his sides and dig in. Lúcio bucks against the smooth barrel of his abdomen, shuddering with a bitten off whine.

"Haaa... ah...." His head lolls to his chest and he squeezes his eyes shut as though he can block out the rippling waves of pain to pleasure to pain that make his head throb, has to shove down the instinct that begs him to ask for a reprieve. He knows by now that Akande won't give him one, not when Lúcio is the one who asked for this.

They never could agree on the pace, though.

"Breathe," Akande reminds him, even as his hips roll up smooth and hard beneath Lúcio, and strong hands claw into the meat of his ass within his shorts. Lúcio’s body rolls with the heavy thrust, learned muscle memory, cants his head with a smile at the hot smear of lips to the sweat at his temple.

He doesn’t mind the way Akande smirks at him, shivering through the friction of two layers of fabric on his half-hard cock, and finally—finally, Akande is close enough. Lúcio grins, lips parting, and leans up into the roughness of Akande's mouth.

It's not that Akande bites, he doesn't even draw blood. But the way he catches Lúcio's mouth, lingering lip-to-lip and basking in its familiar embrace, is the sweetest lie, an interlude before the kiss rolls and tips into the next; the smallest nip of teeth coaxing Lúcio to open, and Akande's tongue slides in slick and strong against his own. Lúcio can only groan in relish, winding arms around the other man's neck and pressing himself as close as possible against that warm chest, cradled on powerful thighs.

He lives for this: being surrounded and overtaken so he can let go, empty his mind and reset. Get back out there and heal. And repeat.

Lúcio feels the blunt hardness slide up beneath his clothed ass when Akande bucks against him, a short and sharp involuntary slip of control. It’s fucking thrilling, the way Akande's growl rumbles into him, vibrating under Lúcio's hands.

An iron grip wraps around Lúcio's thick thighs and drags him down against Akande's clothed cock, pressure driving between Lúcio's hole to the swell of his balls. Lúcio gasps free, breathing hard, hands flying to Akande's arms to steady himself as Akande drives up against him hard, again and again.

_Yes, fuck...._

Lúcio’s eyes slide shut with a weak moan. “Just like that.”

“Can you get off like this?” Akande asks, leaning Lúcio back to adjust the angle so every thrust of his hips grinds against that spot, delicious pressure on Lúcio's balls as he rocks down, back and forth, and Lúcio bites his tongue at the sweet, rough slide of fabric on the underside of his cock.

His eyes slit open, and he smirks at Akande’s fixation on the shameless splay of his thighs. “You thinking about it? How hot I feel around you? How tight?”

Akande’s hips jerk with enough force to raise them both off the bed, and Lúcio grins watching the sensory memory play over him, a shudder of pleasure that makes every muscle tighten even as he catches himself, pretends he wouldn’t rather be grinding, rutting into the smaller DJ right now.

“Touch yourself,” Akande says instead, and Lúcio is only too happy to cock an eyebrow with a light snicker, pushing a hand down his stomach as he balances himself with his free hand on Akande’s knee.

Lúcio likes being touched and takes his time to enjoy stroking back and forth across his hips, body undulating as he strokes his sides, fisting and releasing a handful of his shirt before reaching further, and he makes sure he’s holding Akande’s eye when he rolls up against his own open palm through his shorts, closes a hand to gently squeeze, feel himself pulse hot and hard, material squelching with the evidence of his arousal.

Akande's eyes burn into him, breaths loud and slow as his hands return to their work of easing heavy lines of relief up and down the outer muscles of Lúcio’s thighs, from ass to knees. Lúcio jolts with a whimper in his throat at the spark of pain when Akande presses with the heel of his hand just beneath the juncture of thigh to pelvis, easing off, then massaging in hard again.

It’s always an intolerably long moment before the relief breaks, and pleasure bleeds back in. Akande holds his eye through it, making it all the more intense when he moves and resumes rocking up into him.

Lúcio's head falls back, eyes sliding shut in bliss as he rides the motion, hot pleasure coiling low and tight. "That's it."

Akande releases one of his thighs and tugs Lúcio's headband free, hair tie following to allow Lúcio's dreadlocks to fall from their ponytail. Lúcio grins as the other man anchors a hand in his hair, shivering as lips seal beneath the lock of his jaw, lavishing his skin in a harsh, sucking kiss.

It’s the possession that makes Lúcio lock up and tighten, crushed close and surrendered to his own pleasure as Akande’s thrusts quicken, mouth marking him high and dangerously visible. Lúcio pants, high and fast, hips bucking against Akande's hold in his hair and on his thighs, as his release shudders through him and he’s bent back to be ravaged by that mouth. It's a heady thing, handing over control.

Akande is still hard beneath him when the white noise clears from his ears, when the tremors ease and he looks back into the smoulder of Akande's gaze, hungry and intent.

"Perfect," Akande says, hand closing over Lúcio’s clothed cock, wet squelch warming Lúcio's face as he basks in the praise. “Feeling better?”

Lúcio hums in contentment, leaning in for a long, slow kiss, body thrumming. “Feels good.”

Another hand pushes up Lúcio's thigh into his shorts again, this time streaking slick over his skin on the down stroke, and Lúcio bites his tongue to repress a smile. Akande's thumb strokes small circles on the inside of his knee. "Do you want--?"

Lúcio is already pulling his jersey over his head, leaving him in his shorts alone. He pulls at the ties of Akande's pants, grinds the heel of his palm against the impressive swell through the cloth, thrilling at the man’s sharp intake of breath.

"You know what I want."

**Author's Note:**

> [#healsgoodman #gg ez](https://bellsyblue.tumblr.com/)


End file.
